The Devil...the Prowde Spirite...cannot Endure To Be

Though An Angel Should Write, Still 'tis Devils Must Print.

When We Relate To Our Bodies As Having Soul, We Attend To Their Beauty, Their Poetry And Their Expressiveness. Our Very Habit Of Treating The Body As A Machine, Whose Muscles Are Like Pulleys And Its Organs Engines, Forces Its Poetry Underground, So That We Experience The Body As An Instrument And See Its Poetics Only In Illness.

How Many Times Do We Lose An Occasion For Soul Work By Leaping Ahead To Final Solutions Without Pausing To Savor The Undertones? We Are A Radically Bottom-line Society, Eager To Act And To End Tension, And Thus We Lose Opportunities To Know Ourselves For Our Motives And Our Secrets.

The Heart That Has Truly Loved Never Forgets, But As Truly Loves On To The Close.

A Genuine Odyssey Is Not About Piling Up Experiences. It Is A Deeply Felt, Risky, Unpredictable Tour Of The Soul.